


I Like You a Latte

by JadeJem



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Is Sunshine, Adrien Agreste Is a Little Shit, Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng Fluff, Adult Adrien Agreste, Adult Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Adult Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng Fluff, DJWifi, F/M, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love, Marichat, Marichat sort of?, Miraculous Ladybug - Freeform, Miraculous Ladybug Love Square, No superheroes, Normal AU, Oblivious Marinette Dupain-Cheng, adrienette - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:56:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeJem/pseuds/JadeJem
Summary: Marinette is a successful sophomore in college thus far. She's attained an internship under Agreste Fashion, she shares an apartment with Alya, and she holds a steady job as a barista in a local coffee shop.But when some handsome stranger that refuses to reveal his name makes a habit of coming to buy coffee and dropping a pick-up line or two, Marinette may find her world being flipped upside down.





	1. Ima Catch

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, loves! I had this random idea to start this AU during English class. I know it sucks that there aren't any superheroes, but Chat Noir does come up (in one way or another). 
> 
> Bear with me here! I'll update as much as possible. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, loves! Was super pumped to start writing this after I found a super cute Tumblr prompt about a coffee shop pick-up line! Totally inspired me.
> 
> Enjoy. ;)

The cold, whipping wind rushes through Marinette's already disheveled black hair.

See, Marinette has this delightfully infuriating habit of being late to nearly everything. Meetings, work, lunch dates with Alya, parties—you name it, she's been late to it.

Then again, college and having two jobs hasn't exactly been the easiest. Of course, Marinette is never one to complain about her blessings, though. She's been applying to be an intern for Agreste Fashion for months now, and had finally been accepted about three weeks ago!

Even with that astounding news, she really wishes that she could be on time for _something_ for once.

She rounds a corner, and her vision is momentarily blocked by her loose locks.

Being the graceful and ever-lucky girl she is, she runs smack-dab into a pair of arms and a solid chest.

"Whoa, you o—?"

Marinette looks up from her firm grasp on the man's arms. A stunningly handsome face stares back at her, the sharp cut of his jaw so clearly contrasting to the surprised shock in his gentle green eyes.

At first, his cheeks color a lovely scarlet. Marinette feels her own cheeks darkening, and she swallows thickly.

"Careful," he finally says, something sparking in his eyes, "or you might just find yourself falling for me."

Marinette's whole expression screws up, and she finds herself scoffing and steadying herself so she can let go of him. "How long have you been waiting to use that one?" she quips, smirking at the man's smug expression.

He shrugs. "Pretty words for even prettier girls, I guess." He winks, and Marinette laughs, tucking a strand of wild hair behind her ear.

"Thanks for that sentiment," she says sarcastically, moving her bag to her other shoulder. Her eyes suddenly widen, and she turns on the beautiful stranger apologetically. "I—I've got to go. Work. Sorry, and nice meeting you!" And with a frantic wave, she's skirting around probably the most attractive guy she's ever seen in her life.

Familiar, yes, but she can't quite put her finger on it.

She shakes it off and rounds another corner (this time more carefully, though she wouldn't mind finding herself in the arms of another extremely hot guy). The cafe she works at comes into sight, and she checks her watch.

**8:14 AM**

Just in time!

Barely.

She breathes a sigh of relief as she pushes the door open, jumping at the sound of the bell chiming above her. Her best friend and apartment-mate, Alya, glances up from her task of cleaning the counter.

"Girl, there you are!" she exclaims, throwing the rag at the counter and coming around it to get to an exhausted Marinette. "I woke you up at seven!"

"And then I fell back asleep," Marinette murmurs sheepishly, scuffing her royal blue slip-ons against the dark-tiled floor.

Alya rolls her eyes, a fond smile gracing her lips. "You're never going to change, are you?"

Marinette pokes her tongue out at the sassy girl, laughing lightly. She reaches for the apron resting on her assigned hook and clocks her card in to mark her check-in time.

"Alright, ladies," Manny, the manager, says, walking out of the back room and clapping obnoxiously. "Are we ready to open?"

The boy can be no more than 17. With his awkward red curls and goofy glasses, he's definitely more on the dorky, high school side.

Alya and Marinette have had this inside joke running between them a for a while now. Every morning, Manny says the exact same thing, and Alya and Marinette take turns coming up with ridiculous reasons why they're not ready to open up shop.

"Nope," Alya chimes, recognizing today to be her turn. "There's a hobo in the freezer."

Marinette slaps a hand over her mouth and turns away to stop herself from laughing manically. She distracts herself by tying her apron around her back and clipping her name card into place.

"Really?" comes Manny's startled voice. "What are we going to do?"

And the worst part of the whole joke is that Manny believes everything they say!

Marinette snorts and cups her mouth with her hands, biting her lip to keep her giggling to a minimum.

"I'll take care of it," Alya volunteers, a grin in her voice. "Mari can open up shop."

_Cheap move, Alya._

"Aww. Thanks, Alya," Manny says gratefully, clearly not aware of the joke being tossed over his head.

Alya's shoes click against the black tile until the sound becomes distant. Only then does Marinette turn around to face Manny.

He smiles dorkily at her, and she beams back. "Morning, Manny."

"Morning, Marinette," he responds cheerfully. "You look beautiful today."

Marinette touches her hair. "You think? I usually don't wear my hair like this."

Manny clicks his shoes together, the smile staying. "You should! I like it."

"Thank you." By now, Marinette has grown used to Manny's weird/awkward personality. Her and Alya don't play the game to make fun of him, they merely play it to challenge one another. So far, the score has Alya up three on Marinette. She's got to work on her terrible lying skills.

She'd never want to make of fun of such a sweet boy.

"I'll take care of the front," Marinette announces, already turning towards the double doors.

"Great! I've got the back," Manny replies, the sounds of his pencil moving across the employee clipboard loud in the empty space.

Marinette begins humming contentedly, picking up the broom resting in the closet on the far side of the cafe and sweeping the slightly tarnished flooring. As she makes her way across the room, she steadily gets the eerie feeling that's she is being watched. She stops in front of the open and closed sign resting on a hook latched onto the door and flips it.

Her eyes dart up to meet a pair of bright green ones.

She jumps slightly, scowling when he smirks. Irritated yet amused, she pulls the door open and raises her eyebrows, a smirk pulling at her lips. "Look what the cat dragged in."

He leans against the door frame, his figure towering over her own. "You have a thing for cats?"

Marinette shrugs. "Only the cute ones."

The mysterious guy grins. "Meowch. I'll keep that in mind, Purrincess."

Another raised eyebrow. "A cat pun? Sorry to disappoint, Chaton, but it takes more than that to catch my attention."

He positively glows at the nickname, and Marinette vaguely realizes that this nickname will probably be one he sticks to. She's got a feeling that this won't be his first time here.

"I didn't catch your name," he says, eyes blazing with life and confidence.

"I should hope you'd be able to read," Marinette sasses, indicating the name card attached to her apron.

"Marinette," he drawls, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I like it."

"And you are?"

The smug expression drops off of his face, and he hastily looks away. "Not important."

Marinette, interest piqued, crosses her arms over her chest and cocks a hip. "I would think so. What am I supposed to write on your coffee cup?"

"Nothing," Alya chimes from somewhere behind them, a note of amusement in her voice. "I'm doing cups today. You're the barista, Mari."

The guy shrugs, the corners of his lips lifting. "Guess you'll never find out."

Marinette huffs and turns on her heel, making her way towards the counter. She quickly hops over it and begins setting up the blenders.

"What can I get for you?" Alya queries musically when the guy walks up to the counter.

Marinette turns to try and eavesdrop, but the man leans in and whispers in Alya's ear. She snorts and nods, scribbling something on a small cup. "Coming right up."

In the five minutes it's taken Marinette to set everything up, the shop is bustling with people, all of whom are clearly in a hurry to get to work.

She grabs the first cup she sees and checks the side.

_Marc._

As soon as she has the order memorized, she jumps into action, pushing a brewed cup across the counter a minute or so later.

"Marc?" she calls, watching the handsome stranger's expression carefully. He doesn't move, instead smirking smugly.

A man looking to be in his late 30's collects his coffee, nodding at Marinette. Her gaze flicks back to the man, and she narrows her eyes.

_Game on._

She blows through cup after cup, calling out all sorts of names. The guy never moves once, instead watching her with a patient smile on his face.

Finally, Marinette encounters a weird one and tentatively calls out, "Ima Catch?"

The whole cafe goes silent for a moment before scattered snickers infect the room, most of its inhabitants looking at Marinette knowingly.

She flushes, glaring at the guy approaching to collect his cup.

"Trust me," he says, throwing a wink her way, "I know."

And with that, he's gone.


	2. Is Your Daddy a Baker?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marinette dubs her mysterious new friend 'Chat Noir,' and Chat Noir's flirtations get knocked up a couple of notches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, loves. Super fast update! I wrote this all in one sitting, haha. We're learning new things about our "Mystery Guy."
> 
> Enjoy. ;)

The rest of the morning is fairly uneventful. Other than, of course, Alya's smart remarks about the mysterious boy who had decided to publicly hit on her this morning.

At the mention of him, Marinette had rolled her eyes, though she couldn't deny the blood pooling into her cheeks.

When the clock strikes  **12:00 PM** , the next shift pair come trudging into the shop. Marinette greets Alec, the nice barista with the dashing black hair, and he grins at her and nods.

"Finally done!" Alya whines, throwing her apron onto her hook dramatically.

Marinette giggles, pulling her own apron off and hanging it onto her respective hook. "You are, at least. I need to be in the office in a half hour."

Alya takes a deep breath and pats Marinette on the shoulder. "You're overworking yourself with this internship, Mari. You should start demanding pay!"

Marinette waves her off, appalled at the mere concept of walking up and demanding a raise from her boss. The woman is a forced to be reckoned with. "I'll be fine," she insists, "I just wish I had time to grab lunch with you."

"Yeah. Need a ride there?"

"Nah, I can walk. Thanks, though."

Alya pushes the door open and holds it for Marinette. She walks through and gives her best friend a side hug. "See you."

"Bye," Alya says, throwing a wave and blowing a kiss over her shoulder.

Marinette chuckles at her best friend's antics and smooths out her royal blue blouse.

The walk is about ten minutes long. When the building comes into sight, she sighs in relief and checks her watch.

_I've got a couple of minutes to grab lunch._

With this in mind, she peers down the block to see if there are any cheap places to eat.

Marinette isn't poor, per se, but she sure isn't making a lot of money from her job as a barista. She's been selling her designs online, and that's been about the only thing keeping herself and Alya afloat.

Alya's been having the time of her life (note the sarcasm) with her reporting internship, and she says she predicts a job offering in the next week or so because she's basically the one directing the whole team and keeping things under control.

Marinette's stomach growls, and she grimaces at the sight of all of the expensive-looking restaurants littering the area.

She definitely should have just taken something from the cafe.

Breakfast might have been a good idea, too.

"Ima Catch?"

Marinette freezes, an immediate but playful scowl curling her brow as she recognizes the cocky voice. She spins on her heel to see Mister No-Name grinning down at her.

"I'd greet you, but I don't know your name." Marinette purses her lips and shrugs.

He chuckles, eyes glittering in the afternoon sunlight. "Salty. You on your way to work?"

Marinette opens her mouth to respond before closing it with a confused frown. How would he know where she works?

His eyes widen as he says, "I-I mean I would assume. You can't just be a barista, right?" His eyes widen further, and he makes x's in the air with his arms. "Not that that's bad! I just mean it doesn't pay well, so I just assumed—"

Marinette finds herself giggling, a hand automatically lifting to cover her mouth. "It's fine, Kitty." The nickname rolls off of her tongue, that being the only thing she can think to call him.

He raises an amused eyebrow. "Sticking to the cat theme, then?"

"Well you won't tell me your name!" Marinette sputters, arms flailing wildly in front of her. "What am I supposed to call you?"

He taps his chin for a moment before snapping his fingers and pointing at her. "Chat Noir. Yeah." He nods in self-approval, crossing his arms over his chest.

Marinette lifts a skeptical eyebrow. "Chat Noir?"

Chat shrugs. "Why not? You seem to be convinced that I'm a cat already. Besides, I kind of like it."

"Alright," Marinette agrees, "Chat Noir it is."

He beams down at her and motions for her to walk alongside him. "Where do you, uh, work?" he queries, expression schooled into one of pure curiosity that seems almost too real...

"I'm an intern at Agreste Fashion," Marinette mutters quietly, cheeks pinking.

Chat looks down at her, a question in his eyes. "You don't get paid yet? O-or in general?"

Marinette shakes her head sheepishly, breaking his concerned eye-contact in favor of staring at the intimidating building seemingly made of glass pane. "No, but I don't really mind. I'm just happy I get to be apart of something I love. Well—I don't get to do any designing yet. I mostly just do trivial tasks for my higher-ups." She relinquishes a sigh, feeling down but not wanting to sound ungrateful. "I get to sketch in my free time, though, so that's good!"

She smiles, feigning the cheerfulness behind her exposed teeth. Truth be told, she wants to do something useful. Marinette hates running around getting coffee for everyone all the time. She does that enough as a barista.

Chat stops her by the shoulder, and she nearly trips in her attempts to keep herself from falling backwards.

"Are you happy doing what you're doing now?" he asks seriously, raising his eyebrows.

"It's fi—"

"Seriously, Marinette. Are you happy doing what you're doing now?"

"No," Marinette states boldly, looking away from his burning gaze, "I'm not."

Chat nods, releasing his soft grip on her shoulder. "Didn't think so."

Marinette scowls and turns on him. "What does it matter? It's not like there's anything _you_  can do about it. Hundreds of designers just like me applied for this internship, and I'm beyond lucky that I got it. I can't sit here and complain about being so close to my dream."

Chat opens his mouth, looking like he wants to say something else on the matter, but ultimately snaps it shut. He relinquishes a sigh and runs a hand through his golden hair.

"Alright," he finally relents, letting his hand fall back to his side again. He looks at her, earnest concern shining in his eyes. "I just think that you deserve better."

Marinette releases a breathy laugh. "Says the man who won't tell me his name."

Chat's face screws up. "I have my reasons."

Marinette raises an amused eyebrow. "Mhm."

He walks with her to a restaurant and offers to buy her something. Being hungry and semi-broke, she agrees to a small sandwich. She thanks him, and he grins.

"You could always thank me by letting me take you out on a date."

Marinette nearly chokes on her sandwich.

_Mister I-Can-Probably-Have-Any-Woman-In-Paris-Because-I'm-Beautiful wants to go on a date?_

"W-well," Marinette stammers, thrown off by this unexpected turn of events, "maybe when you tell me your real name."

Chat's face falls. "But I gave you one!" he exclaims flamboyantly, looking both guilty and indignant.

Marinette cocks an eyebrow. "Chat Noir is just a nickname I'm going to use until you tell me your real name."

Chat purses his lips, narrowing his stunning eyes in consideration. Marinette nibbles on her sandwich, wanting to savor the amazing taste of the warm pastrami.

Finally, Chat snaps his fingers and points at her. "How 'bout this. If you go on a date with me, I'll tell you my name at the end of the date."

Marinette shakes her head, a small smile curving her lips. "Sorry, Kitty-Cat. Name now, date later."

He grins triumphantly. "So you're saying you would go out with me?"

Marinette taps her chin, feigning consideration. "I might think about it."

She laughs at his expression and bumps his shoulder.

He escorts her to the 'Agreste Fashion' building before sending her off with an unexpected kiss to her knuckles.

Marinette shakes his flirtations away. No, she refuses to like him if he won't tell her his name. What reason can he possibly have for hiding who he is? Is he a serial killer or something?

She shakes the thoughts of Chat Noir away, approaching the front desk with a smile.

"Marinette," Kylee, the lady behind the desk, greets, a small smile curling her lips.

"Good afternoon, Kylee," Marinette says in return, trying to sound professional and friendly at the same time.

She scans her ID card on the wall nearest to the elevator and joins three other people who are waiting for the descent down. The door dings, and five important-looking people waltz out, all donned in either a fancy suit or a form-fitting dress.

Marinette suddenly feels under-dressed. This place should really make a dress code.

She steps into the elevator with the other three business people, attempting to appear adamant that her choice of clothing is perfectly acceptable. She clicks level 29 and steps away from the keypad.

A small voice in the back of her head encourages her to try and exchange pleasantries with the woman closest to her, but by the time she gets to the guts to open her mouth, the elevator doors ding and slide open, and the woman steps out.

Marinette shuts her mouth and withdraws into herself.

Finally, the elevator clacks to a slow stop on the desired level. The doors open with a final ping, and Marinette nods at her elevator mates and steps into the empty hallway. Doors line the walls, each one spaced fairly far apart, indicating the size of each room.

After what feels like eons of walking, Marinette stops in front of the last door at the end of the hallway. She scans her ID card and pushes the door adorning a large 'Agreste Fashion' logo open.

The office is bustling with busy-looking people; some on phones, some clicking rapidly at their keyboards, and some rushing towards the many printers lining one of the walls.

Upon her entry, many look up and stare at her like she's a gift to the earth.

"Marinette!" Natasha, a co-worker who actually gets paid—sigh, exclaims, relief flooding her pinched expression. "Thank God! I need you to talk to Lavine."

"What's going on?" Marinette asks uncertainly, allowing Natasha to guide her by the shoulder towards the office at the far side of the room. The room is closed off with another set of doors bearing the 'Agreste Fashion' logo, perfectly mirroring the doors in the front of the office.

Natasha's deep brown eyes flick around the chaotic room rapidly, almost as if looking for a good excuse. Finally, she sighs and runs a hand through her straightened black hair. "Lavine's throwing a bit of a... fit."

A grimace strangles Marinette's expression as the distance between herself at Lavine's door dwindles by the second. "And I suppose everyone wants me to take care of it again?"

Natasha nods, looking sheepish. "I don't know what you did last time, but you worked a miracle. Before we had you, we had to rely on the champagne to do the trick. Only problem with that tactic is—"

"—Lavine is a sleepy drunk," Marinette finishes, stopping a foot away from the door. "I'm going to need some coconut oil and a guava-peach smoothie."

Natasha nods. "We'll get someone to get right on that." She places an appreciative hand on Marinette's shoulder. "Thank you, Marinette."

Marinette smiles softly and turns towards the double doors. Gathering every inch of confidence she has inside of herself, she squares her shoulders and pushes one of the doors open.

Lavine's in her cushy black office chair, her back to Marinette. The door closes quietly behind the bluenette, and she takes a step towards Lavine.

"I told you!" Lavine suddenly screeches, spinning around in her desk chair and causing Marinette to jump a foot in the air. "I don't—" When her menacing and crazed gaze falls onto Marinette, the hellish expression drops off of her face. "Marinette!" she exclaims jovially, standing up from her chair and strutting towards Marinette with her arms held out. "Thank everything holy you're here." She envelops the discombobulated bluenette in a fluffy hug.

Marinette pats her on the back awkwardly, trying not to accidentally eat Lavine's faux fur coat.

Lavine pulls away, her age showing as she leans a hand against her forehead dramatically. "Everyone's an idiot," she states bluntly, falling back into her chair with an exhausted exhale. "Except for you." She points at Marinette, shaking a finger as a grin stretches her lips. "You're smart and talented. How much do I pay you, again?"

"N-nothing, Ma'am," Marinette stammers, cheeks pinking in delight at the compliment.

"Right," Lavine chirps, sucking on her bottom lip before saying, "remind me to ask about that."

Marinette beams and takes a seat in one of the two chairs on the opposite side of Lavine's cluttered desk. "So, what's the problem?" she queries, if a bit hesitantly.

"I told you," Lavine states, waving her hand in the air flippantly. "Everyone's an idiot. I had this amazing idea for next year's spring line going, and I gave the sketches to our artists and they messed all of the colors up! The idea has already been mass-printed, and I can already see Gabriel frowning in distaste!"

Marinette frowns. "Can't we just redo the designs and stop the mass-print?"

"I wish," Lavine sighs, massaging her temple with her forefinger and thumb, "but the design plan has already been sent to the main office. It's too late now."

"Just explain to Monsieur Agreste that it was a first draft and the colors are all wrong, and someone mass-printed without the knowledge of the line being a first draft," Marinette suggests, keeping her tone even and gentle.

Yeah. Not a war she can easily win.

As it turns out, Lavine is called into a meeting minutes later, leaving Marinette with a simple, "Inspire me."

Marinette, being utterly thrilled by this, has no problem fumbling with her purse and pulling out her thick sketchbook.

She spends the next few hours or so simply designing anything spring-like. Hats, dresses, sunglasses, sandals, shirts, bags, etc.

By the time it's time to clock out, the office is much calmer than it had been previously.

Marinette checks to make sure that her signature is written in pen across every design idea, and she leaves a small stack on Lavine's desk.

With a skip in her step, the bluenette walks home and spends the rest of the evening binge-watching 'Project Runway.'

***   *   ***

"Marinette."

A warm hand gently jostles Marinette, and she hums and rolls over, irritated.

"Marinette, I am not playing this game," the voice hisses, this time shaking her a bit harder.

Marinette groans, flinching when her mattress begins bouncing under Alya's shifting weight.

"Wake uuuup," Alya demands, yanking the covers off of Marinette and stepping away to avoid any possible backlash.

Marinette sprawls, stretches, and cracks an eye open, peering around the room curiously. Alya stands at the foot of her bed, an eyebrow raised.

"You gonna stay up this time?"

"Mmm," Marinette sits up and stretches her arms out one last time, "no promises." Her hands drop to her sides, and she blinks slowly. "Have you made breakfast yet?"

Alya rolls her eyes. "Why don't you get dressed and come find out?"

Reluctantly, Marinette forces herself out of bed and takes a short but searing shower. When she pads back into her room, she remembers the outfit she had picked out to wear the previous day. She slips into her clothes before going to the bathroom and taking care of her hair and makeup.

"Do I smell an omelette?" Marinette shouts, a smile gracing her face as she slides earrings into the small holes in her ears.

"You might!" Alya calls back, a grin in her voice.

The two sit down at the small dining room table and vacuum the omelettes up, exchanging small talk in between bites and sips of orange juice.

Of course, Chat Noir comes up, and Marinette badgers the idea of Alya's ship.

"I refuse to like a guy who can't even trust me with his name," Marinette states, shrugging and taking a long draw from her glass cup.

"Aw, come on! He's super obviously into you!" Alya whines, banging her fist on the table lightly with a pout pulling on her lips.

Marinette finishes the last of her orange juice and sets the cup on her glass plate. She takes Alya's glass and plate as well, washing them and then putting them in the dishwasher.

"Well, if he's so into me, then he can tell me his name," Marinette jokes, slipping her wedges on. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Alya replies, standing from her seat at the table and tossing her purse over her shoulder, "let's go."

They banter back and forth all the way to the cafe, talking about everything and absolutely nothing.

The door chimes when Alya pushes it open, and Marinette slips in behind her, an odd feeling curling in her stomach.

"Is this what it's like to be early to something?" Marinette queries worriedly, eyes blown wide as Alya clocks in and reaches for her apron.

The ombré snorts as she slides the apron on over her head and clips her name card in place. "Yes. You should try to get used to it."

Marinette blinks before shaking her head and clocking in. "It's weird. What time is it?"

"Like, eight-ten. We have five minutes to set up." Alya slips her phone her back pocket. "Oh," she says, turning around, "it's your turn today."

Marinette narrows her eyes competitively. "I know."

Alya grins and disappears behind the back door. Marinette slips her apron on over her head and clips her name card into place.

Feeling lazy, she gathers her hair and pulls it into a messy bun before sliding on a visor with the cafe's logo on it.

"Alright, ladies," Manny sings, walking out of the back room. "Are we ready to open?" He glances around the room, a frown settling along his brow. "Where's Alya?"

"Right here," Alya chimes, pushing the doors leading into the back open and leaning against the frame. "Just checking to make sure everything back here is set up." She smirks evilly at Marinette.

Marinette pokes her tongue out at her best friend. "Actually, we can't open yet," Marinette says sadly, sighing for extra effect. "The creamer has been replaced by shampoo."

"What?" Manny yelps, dark eyes comically wide. "That's horrible! When I find the punk that did this—"

Alya makes little punching motions in the air when Manny's back is turned. Marinette snorts a laugh and quickly covers it up as a cough.

"It's okay, Manny," she reassures, patting him on the shoulder. "I guess I'll walk all the way to the store and get some more creamer."

Manny shakes his head hurriedly at her. "Nonsense, Marinette! Thank you for telling me! I'll just go to the store while you and Alya work."

Marinette beams at him. "Thank you, Manny."

"Any time," he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before turning around and walking out of the door.

"I feel like Manny has a crush on you," Alya ponders aloud.

Marinette whirls on the girl to see her tapping her chin thoughtfully. "What? No he doesn't!" Marinette insists flippantly, waving Alya off. "He's just nice."

"Mhm," Alya hums sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking an eyebrow at Marinette.

Marinette finds her cheeks pinking as she rolls her eyes. "Oh hush."

Alya cackles at Marinette's turned back. Said bluenette trudges towards the front doors and flips the open/closed sign.

"Now we wait for Romeo," Alya teases, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at Marinette, who snorts in response.

"He's letting me call him 'Chat Noir' now," she scoffs, opening the broom closet door and picking up the broom.

"Ohoho," Alya chuckles delightedly, snickering at Marinette's flat expression. "Has he asked you out yet?"

"Yep," Marinette says, popping the 'p', "and I said no."

"What?!" Alya yelps, nearly dropping the register key. "Why? He's hotter than Zac Efron!"

Marinette wrinkles her nose. "Who?"

"Hot American actor. Not important. Why on earth would you turn down a—uh... really good-looking and sweet guy?" Alya fumbles, clearly covering something up.

Marinette raises an accusatory eyebrow, running a dish rag over one of the blenders. "A... what?"

Quite literally saved by the bell, Alya visibly sinks in relief. Marinette throws a glare at her before spinning on her heel to prep her station further.

To her surprise (not), Chat Noir, in all of his 'swagger,' saunters up to the counter, a smirk curling his lips as he leans against it languidly.

He stares at her, and Marinette cocks an eyebrow. "What? No witty pick-up line?"

She should've known better than to say anything.

"I was simply taking the time to admire how beautiful you are before I showered you in my apparently  _much-desired_ attempts at affection," he purrs smoothly, winking at her.

Marinette's heart jumps into her throat, and she plays it off as an amused eye-roll to the best of her ability. "And there it is."

He blows her a kiss, his eyes drooping into a dreamy stare. "You love it."

Alya makes a gagging noise a few feet away, and Marinette can't help but flush in embarrassment.

Chat chuckles, sashaying up to the register to place an order. Marinette rolls her eyes when he leans in and whispers in Alya's ear.

She chuckles and scribbles something on the cup. Marinette tries to pay Chat no mind, but he can't seem to find something or someone else to look at. She squirms under his intense stare, blushing and turning away so she doesn't have to look at him. 

More and more people file in, and Marinette finds herself flying through cup after cup, as per usual.

Finally, she checks the side of the cup for a name to call out and stumbles upon this:

**_Is your daddy a Baker? Because you've got some nice buns._ **

A furious blush consumes her cheeks, and she slaps a hand over her mouth. There is no way in  _hell_  she's calling this one out.

Chat strolls up to the counter, a cheeky grin on his face. "I would assume this one is mine?"

Marinette glares at him and pushes the steaming cup towards him. "My mother and father are both bakers, actually."

Chat takes the coffee, looking at her through his golden lashes. "I can tell."

And then he's gone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave your reactions in the comments! I'm interested to know what you think so far! I think 'Chat Noir' has a bit of a crush. ;)
> 
> Xoxo, J.


	3. Take Mew Out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Adrien is just way too cute, and Marinette is a clueless blueberry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, loves! Jade here with the third chapter of this cute lil thang. I'm not sure yet, but I'm considering turning this into a slow-burn fic. Obviously, 'Chat Noir' is already head-over-heels for Mari, but there's a back-story to it. Did you really think he just fell in love with her on sight?
> 
> Enjoy. ;)

This pattern of Chat's plays on repeat for a month.

Every single morning, Chat Noir is there the moment the cafe opens, coming up with some witty pick-up line or nickname to have Alya write on the cup. His silly flirtations continue, and Marinette finds herself thinking it's all a joke.

When she really took the time to think about it a week or so ago, she had realized that girls must be falling all over this guy. He's definitely the most attractive man Marinette has ever seen in her life, so what are the chances that he's even legitimately into her?

Slim to none.

Sure, at first, she had tricked herself into thinking that his antics were genuine. He's very sweet and kind, but he probably talks to girls like this all the time!

So, she had begun to snub him with a quick and sweet flirtation of her own.

**_Are you religious? Because you're the answer to all my prayers._ **

"I'm actually an atheist," Marinette had drawled, winking at him before strutting away.

**_I'm not a photographer, but I can picture me and you together._ **

"I've broken every camera I've ever owned," she'd stated, shrugging and smiling to herself at his look of disbelief.

**_Do you work at Starbucks? Because I like you a latte._ **

"The name of this place is actually Café Veranne, but you're cute, so I'll let it go this one time."

**_Do you have a map? I'm getting lost in your eyes._ **

...This one simply made her blush and comment offhandedly: "Get a GPS."

**_Do you have a sunburn, or are you always this hot?_ **

"Apparently, I haven't been to the beach nearly as much as you have," she'd smarmed, throwing a wink at him and sliding the cup across the counter.

And that brings Marinette to present day. She's been doing fairly well as an intern for Agreste Fashion; saving the office from its downfall and sketching ideas for inspiration for Lavine. To her disappointment, she has not been paid yet. But there's still time, right? She just needs to prove herself.

Marinette pushes the door open, the familiar sound of the little rusted bell tinkling delightedly overhead. She holds the door open for Alya, who's been much too quiet the whole walk.

"What's wrong?" Marinette queries timidly, unfamiliar with this shy version of Alya.

The ombré startles out of her thoughts, quickly looking down at Marinette before flushing and glancing away. "Nothing."

Marinette cocks an eyebrow. "Really?"

Alya grunts, tossing her apartment keys and phone at the counter. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Marinette says gently, considering the possibility that Alya can very well be experiencing mood swings due to some lady-like business.

Alya pulls on her apron and ties her hair into a sloppy bun at the base of her neck. "I'm fine, Marinette. Leave it."

Marinette holds her hands up in defeat, watching with a mixture of hurt and confusion as Alya pulls on her visor and storms off.

"What's up with her?" she ponders quietly, pulling her apron over her head and tying it. With a gloomy sigh, she pulls her hair into twin-tails and settles the visor into place on the top of her head.

She checks her watch, surprised at the lack of Manny's usual appearance at this time. She shrugs it off, grabbing the broom from the broom closet and going through the now insanely familiar motions.

Time crawls by, and she finally finds herself flipping the open/closed sign.

Alya still hasn't made a reappearance, and a sinking feeling begins to form in the pit of Marinette's stomach. The bluenette grabs a rag and begins wiping down the counters, allowing her thoughts to drift away from her current location.

She doesn't have work until later today (3:00?) because of classes. Graphic Design II has definitely been her favorite so far (other than Fashion Design II, of course). Fashion Design II itself isn't as fun or interactive as Marinette had hoped it would be when she had signed up for the course. It's a lot like the Fashion Design I: tons of lectures things she already knows, and not a lot of actual work.

The chiming of the bell has Marinette jumping before relaxing and glancing over to see her 'favorite' customer stroll in (his words, not hers).

"Morning, Princess," he greets suavely, sidling up to the counter and leaning over it.

Marinette meets him head-on, a smirk of satisfaction at the slight surprise whirling in his eyes plastering itself across her face. Her nose is inches from his chin as she gazes up at him.

"Morning, Chaton."

At this moment, Alya pushes the back door open and cringes away from the scene. "Agh, gross. Get a room."

Marinette jumps away from Chat, blood pooling into her cheeks. "I—we weren't—!" She looks to Chat for help only to see his cheeks are a few shades darker than hers.

_Whoa. Didn't think Chat COULD get embarrassed._

She raises an accusatory eyebrow at him, and he refuses to glance her way. Alya shakes her head and disappears behind the back door again.

Marinette, seeing an opportunity so cringey yet so perfect, leans back over the counter so that her face is almost level with Chat's ear.

"What's wrong?" she practically purrs, a delectable smile curling her lips as she clamps down on the urge to nip his ear. "Cat got your tongue?"

Oh. And Marinette had thought his cheeks were red _before._

With an evil giggle, she pulls away and turns her back on him, humming delightedly as she picks up a rag and begins cleaning the blenders that are still dirty from the night prior.

The bell chimes thrice as more people begin to fill the cafe, and Marinette calls out to Alya, insisting she hurries her booty up.

And, like always, Marinette is flying through coffee cups, working seamlessly and effortlessly.

_'It's almost like a rhythm,'_ she muses to herself with a smile.

Finally, she reaches for a finished cup and stops just before reading the script out loud.

**_Would you be so kind as to let me take mew out?_ **

Marinette would be lying if she said her heart didn't stutter in her chest.

She releases a breathless "oh," blinking wildly at the words scrawled across the cup. Her eyes dart up to meet a pair of dashing green ones, which, for once, aren't full of haughty confidence. Instead, she finds hope blooming within their depths, and Marinette's heart pitter-patters in a horribly amazing way.

All of that comes crashing down when her resolve rebuilds itself. She relinquishes a sigh, desperately wanting to calm her racing pulse.

"Not until you tell me your name."

The words hang in the air between them, disliked by both parties. Marinette can't bring herself to look at Chat's expression, for fear of her resolve crumbling around her once more.

"I can't," he manages, eyes downcast and strained when Marinette steals a glance at him (even though she had just told herself not to, darn it!).

"Why not?" she queries softly, eyes now firmly fixed on Chat's face.

Chat groans. "Because I can't! I just"—he combs a hand through his golden hair, further disheveling it—"can't. You'd..." His eyes meet hers for a moment, sparking with something that looks almost guilty. "You'd say no if you knew who I was."

Marinette scowls. "Well, you haven't exactly given me that chance, have you?"

Chat leans over the counter on both of his hands and stares at her. "You're no cheater, Marinette. Knowing who I was would make you look bad—like you haven't worked for everything you've gotten. I can't do that to you. I can't."

And with that, he takes the no longer warm cup sitting on the counter between them and walks away, leaving a very confused girl in his wake.

_What puzzle piece am I missing?_

***   *   ***

Marinette waltzes into the office to find Gabriel Agreste standing next to her small work space in the Agreste Fashion building.

Her first instinct is to stop breathing and try not to scream.

Her second instinct, as she makes her way over to said work space, is to think rationally. It's _Gabriel Agreste!_ He's not here to talk to some lowly _intern_. He's basically a God!

But when she slows to a stop and sets her purse down on the edge of her desk, he turn to look at her expectantly. "You are Miss Dupain-Cheng, yes?"

The oxygen flies out of Marinette's lungs.

She chokes on her spit for a straight ten seconds before she takes a deep, quivering breath. "Y-yes, sir."

The stoic man's face stays carefully blank, but Marinette swears, amusement flashes in his dull blue eyes. "I would like to talk to you about the work you've been doing here."

_'Oh no, oh no,'_ Marinette panics internally. _'He's gonna fire me! He's gonna cast me out into the street after telling me how useless I am to the business!'_

"Yes?" Marinette finally asks, shoving the word out of her mouth.

"Adrien is quite fond of you, apparently. Says you're a hard-worker and a team player who's incredibly talented. He's been insisting on giving you an official paycheck for weeks now. I'd find it unprofessional if I thought he was wrong." His glasses shine in the afternoon light, the glint sharp and intimidating—contradicting his words. "Lavine has been sharing your work with me for weeks now, and I'd like to offer you a real spot on our design team."

Marinette screams.

Well, almost. It sounds less like a scream, and more like a balloon deflating.

She slaps a hand over her mouth before nodding vigorously, eyes burning with excited tears.

A hint of a smile tweaks Gabriel's lips, and he nods. "I'm sure Adrien will be thrilled for you."

_'Adrien,'_ echoes in Marinette's head like a broken record. Adrien had been the one to get her this job. Adrien... Who is Adrien?

Just as Gabriel turns to leave, Marinette blurts, "Monsieur! I-if I may ask... Who's Adrien?"

Gabriel cranes his neck to look at her before doing a 180. "My son."

Marinette frowns. "Your son? I don't think I've met him."

"My son," Gabriel repeats, raising an eyebrow, "Adrien Agreste."

It takes a full ten seconds for the name to register in Marinette's head.

_Adrien Agreste, international supermodel and voted 'Most Handsome Man' in all of France._

"Oh!" Marinette squeaks, feeling skittish and idiotic for not having remembered the name of Gabriel Agreste's son. "Him! I-I've never talked to him before."

_'I don't even remember what he looks like,'_ she adds as an afterthought.

Gabriel frowns, confusion etched into the gesture. "How odd. I must formally introduce you two to one another. He speaks quite highly of you."

Marinette flushes gently. "Oh. Well, please tell him that I say thank you."

Gabriel nods before turning and walking away. He stops and swivels one last time to look at Marinette. "Miss Dupain-Cheng?"

Marinette stares at him, surprised. "Yes?"

A soft, almost invisible smile stretches Gabriel's lips. "Do treat him well, please."

Marinette watches her idol walk away, confusion whirling within her for the second time today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this chapter is a little short. I just felt like this was a good place to end it. :)
> 
> Working on a couple of commissions right now, and those are my top priority. If I have the inspiration, I'll probably start on Camp Miraculous (5).
> 
> Hope you loves enjoyed that! Things are finally about to approach the main plot. ;)
> 
> Xoxo, J.


	4. Who the Hell is—?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tbh Adrien just really really likes Mari

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, loves! Long time no see! Okay, not really, but I haven't had the opportunity to get my hands on this piece as of late. That ends now. >:D
> 
> Enjoy. ;)

"God, you're so beautiful."

Marinette sends him a pointed look as she hands a cup to someone. The stranger looks at Chat thoughtfully before shaking his head gruffly and moving on. 

Chat sighs in what Marinette assumes is a dreamy fashion, his chin resting heavily in the palm of his hand as he stares at her. 

"You know," Marinette says when the charged silence between them becomes too much for her to bear, "you could always just let your name slip—wouldn't hurt your chances with me."

Chat visibly sags, huffing dramatically. "We've been over this, Princess."

"You're right," she quips, swiping some whipped cream off of the side of a cup as it begins dribbling down, "we have." She boops him, leaving a small glop of the substance resting on the tip of his nose.

It wrinkles, and he swipes the whipped cream away with a nearby napkin. "You know the deal."

She shrugs. "And you know my price."

He relinquishes a groan, and she allows herself a small smile. She turns her back on him and switches on the blender, humming as she holds the lid in place. 

When she finally switches the blender off and pours its contents into a cup, she turns to find Chat seated in a chair right in front of the pick-up counter—in the way. He grins cheekily, leaning forward on his elbows and blinking innocently.

Marinette's eye twitches idly. 

_If he wants to play that game, then fine. Game on._

"Joaquin?" she calls out, reading the name off of the cup and holding it in the air. 

A young man looking to be around her age slowly approaches the pick-up counter, a weirded-out look stretching his dark features. "You good, bro?" he asks Chat hesitantly. 

Chat turns his gaze on who Marinette assumes to be Joaquin. "Perfect," he responds, even going so far as to give a thumbs-up. He then cups a hand over his mouth (palm facing Marinette) and leans towards Joaquin. "I'm currently on a date."

Marinette scoffs. "Is that what you're up to? You pesky cat."

Joaquin's eyes further widen as he looks between Marinette and Chat as if they belong in an insane asylum. Chat winks, and Marinette snorts into her hand, watching with baited breath as Joaquin slowly turns away and stalks off.

When Marinette's sure he's out of earshot, she allows herself to crack up. "Chat!" she hisses, making a shooing motion at him. "Go on, get! You're weirding people out!"

Chat feigns a sighs, looking up at Marinette with pursed lips that barely contain his smile. "You know, this would be so much easier on you if you just agreed to let me take you somewhere a bit more appropriate for someone of your status."

Marinette chuckles bitterly, picking up the whipped cream and spritzing some in the cup on the counter before motioning around the cafe with it. "I work in a cafe, Chat. Quite frankly, my status is below average."

He stands up, hands supporting his weight as he leans across the counter. He drifts close enough for their noses to brush, and Marinette's veins catch fire. At least, that's how it feels.

"You deserve world, M'Lady," he says softly, eyes flicking down to her lips before he allows one of his infamous smirks to capture his expression. After a moment more, he rocks back on his heels, taking the chair and dragging it back to where he had probably gotten it from.

Marinette blinks, face hot and pulse hammering. The sudden flustered feeling is unsettling to say the least, and she finds herself opening and closing her mouth, words jumbled in her head as she tries to string together a coherent response.

Chat finally looks at her again, the smirk turning soft upon seeing her physical state. She simply allows herself to delve into his irises of green, jaded with gentle flecks of gold and shades of emerald melting into the meadows he paints with his gaze. 

The spell is broken by a blonde teenage girl's timid approach. Marinette watches her bite her lip before she hesitantly taps Chat's shoulder. He stares at Marinette a moment more before tearing his gaze and turning to the girl. 

His expression morphs into one of surprise, then panic. 

"Hi," the girl starts nervously, shifting her weight from leg to leg repeatedly, "you're—"

Chat cuts her off with a bark of nervous laughter as he casts his gaze Marinette's way before returning it to her. "Not who you're looking for!" he finishes for her, patting her gently on the shoulder. "Sorry."

The blonde's whole face contorts into one of confusion. "Um, no, I'm pretty sure—"

"Sorry!" Chat blurts again, suddenly glancing down at his bare wrist. "Ah, would you look at the time? I-I really have to be somewhere right now."

The girl's eyes light up. "Do you have a show today? Or a shoot? Can I get your—"

"Gotta go, bye!" Chat practically shouts, turning on his heel and speed-walking out of the cafe.

Marinette watches him with a slacked jaw. "What on earth—"

Blondie turns to Marinette, suddenly looking a lot less sweet. "Have you never heard of—"

"Girl! I need you on these!" Alya's frantic demand draws Marinette's attention away from the teenager. She gasps at the pile of cups with orders written all over them before hastily grabbing four and getting back to work. 

However, the encounter never escapes her memory as her shift draws on. 

Who the hell is Chat Noir?

***   *   ***

"Marinette! Where's Marinette? I need her now!"

Marinette jumps violently, nearly dropping her stylus. She pulls out one of her earbuds as Lavine comes marching up, red hair sticking up in different directions. 

Marinette sets her drawing tablet (courtesy of Lavine and her new spot on the design team thanks to Adrien—who she still needs to thank) on her desk. 

"Is something wrong?" she queries, standing and removing her other earbud.

Lavine comes to a halt in front of her, brushing off her skirt and tucking any loose strands of hair back into her bun. "No," she finally says, sighing and allowing a smile to grace her lips, "just wanted to check on your progress."

Marinette blinks. "Oh." She steps away from her computer monitor. "Feel free to take a look. They're all just concepts so far." 

Lavine scrolls through the digital pages at a snail's pace, and Marinette debates whether it would be rude to pull out her phone. She finds she doesn't get the chance when Lavine finally straightens and nods. "These are all very well done. Have color schemes been decided?"

"Er... no," Marinette admits sheepishly, biting down on her tongue to keep herself from laughing nervously. "I've been thinking about doing a more pastel green-blue-teal-white theme, or maybe a cherry-red-pink-scarlet-peach theme. I'm going to make copies and try every design in both."

"Perfect," Lavine states, nodding in satisfaction. "I'll leave you to it, then."

Marinette places her hands on her hips, exhaling proudly. Lavine may favor her, but she wouldn't lie to Marinette about the quality of her designs. 

Again, Adrien pops into her head. She has absolutely no idea where to find him and thank him! Maybe he's in the building somewhere... If she can just ask around, this may be her chance to show her gratitude and meet him (seeing as knowing and being acquainted with Gabriel's son may become necessary sometime in the future). 

With this is mind, she tucks her phone into the front pocket of her black business slacks (accented with pink heels, thank you very much) and makes her way towards the front of the vast room. She doubts anyone will even know she's gone, anyway. For the most part, everyone is engrossed in side projects for Lavine or the company. 

She steps out into the empty hall, leaving the low chatter of her co-workers behind the giant steel doors. Her heels clack despite the floor being made entirely of carpet, and Marinette finds herself unsettled. She's always hated being in big places by herself. 

She seeks out a floor guide—really anything that might help her locate Adrien's area of work. If he's even in the vicinity... He might be out travelling or practicing for a show or even in a shoot as she thinks this! 

 _'No,'_  she chides herself.  _'You cannot be deterred by these possibilities. You need to thank him for putting in a good word for you. But... how does he know me?'_

Now that she really thinks about it, it strikes her as odd. She's never even  _met_  Adrien! Why would he vouch for her as Gabriel had said he had? Why would he be so set on getting her a spot on the design team?

That's not to say that she's not thankful—this has been her dream for God knows how long! It just seems so sudden and randomly kind. And semi-eerie—as if he knew exactly what he was asking for for Marinette. 

As if he  _has_  talked to her before.

Which, Marinette swears, she would remember! She wouldn't be able to forget a pretty-boy face even if she'd want to! She's learning that now with Chat.

Her endeavors eventually lead her to the front desk on the bottom floor. The receptionist, Kylee, glances up at her, grinning broadly upon her approach. 

"Marinette! What can I do for you?" she queries, white teeth bared in a smile.

"Hey," Marinette greets, returning her smile, "this might be a weird request, but I'm looking for someone."

Kylee nods, an indication for Marinette to continue.

"You know how I got a spot on the design team?" Kylee nods again, looking mildly more interested. "Yeah, well Monsieur Agreste came to me himself telling me that his son is the one who recommended me for the spot." She bites her lip. "Except... I've never met Adrien Agreste."

Kylee's expression shifts to one of slight panic before gradually falling into one of nervous displeasure. "Ah," she finally manages, looking like she wants to say more.

Marinette's eyebrows come crashing down into a frown. "What?"

"Nothing!" Kylee replies quickly, holding her arms in front of her in an 'x' motion. "It's just..." She takes her lower-lip into her mouth and looks around nervously before her expression lights up. "...Adrien's not here today! Travelling and whatnot."

Under any other circumstances, Marinette would simply believe her and thank her for her time. Now, however, Kylee looks like she's about to burst with nerves—doesn't seem like she's the type to easily keep a secret. 

Marinette's eyes narrow suspiciously. "Are you sure?"

Kylee's dark eyes dart to the right. "Yes."

"You're lying."

"What?!" she practically screeches, her laughter sounding very forced and fake. "Nooo! Wha—why would I ever lie to you?"

Marinette cocks an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Well, you're clearly hiding something."

Kylee purses her lips, leg jumping into a rhythm. She hums, chewing on her lip.

"What is it?"

"I can't say!" she blurts, immediately slapping a hand over her mouth. 

Marinette throws her hands up. "Why not? I just want to thank the guy!"

"You can't," Kylee squeaks, cringing and biting down on her knuckles before guiltily looking up at Marinette. "Shorry."

"Why can't you tell me?" Marinette asks, feeling less confused and more frustrated.

Kylee's leg-jumping stops, and she looks from side to side before removing her hand from her mouth. She relinquishes a sigh and leans forward. "Adrien and I became friends around the time that we were graduating high school," she says, voice considerably low despite the empty foyer. "He's the one who got me this job. He's also not the stuck-up rich guy all of Paris seems to think he is. He has a really big heart... and it can really get him into trouble sometimes."

Marinette frowns, leaning against the desk and trying to understand why Kylee is telling her this. 

When nothing is said between them for another moment or two, Kylee exhales and continues. "Ever since he began going to public school in eighth grade, he's been self-conscious about how other people see him. In school, he thought they judged him based on who his childhood friend, Chloé Bourgeois, was." 

Marinette's eyes widen. "Chloé? I went to school with her! That girl was such a little—"

"See what I mean?" Kylee deadpans, raising a cryptic eyebrow. "And he was afraid that people began thinking the same things about him. Made him reluctant to admit to being an Agreste if he could avoid it." She stares at Marinette, seemingly expecting something to click in her head. 

Marinette raises her eyebrows, lips pressing into a thin line. "So...?"

Kylee makes a frustrated noise before face-palming. "Never mind. There's no helping either of you," she mutters, massaging her temples before abruptly shooing Marinette. "Now skidaddle, Marebear. I've got an essay that needs writing for Lit."

With an indignant huff, Marinette turns on her heel and stalks back towards the elevator. A load of help that'd been! What on earth has gotten into Kylee?

She steps through the sliding doors before clicking on her floor. With a dejected sigh, she leans back against the cold metal of the elevator wall. 

Seriously, who the hell is Adrien Agreste?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ba-da bing ba-da boom. Update. I have a 10K word commission under construction right now, so I will be working on both that AND Camp Miraculous at the same time. 
> 
> Patience is a virtue. :—D
> 
> Xoxo, J.


	5. A Flower or 8,000 for Your Thoughts?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien's just a cute lil sunshine dork at this point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, loves! Always a pleasure to provide this particular series for you. I'm sorry for the long wait! Sports and academics have been occupying most of my time lately, and the only writing I've been doing are my commissions.
> 
> Enjoy. ;)

Her fingers hover over the keyboard.

It wouldn't be weird to Google him, right?

Marinette takes her lower-lip between her teeth and quickly glances around the office.  _No!_ she wants to tell herself.  _That's not weird! Not at all!_

Ever the optimist, she begins punching the keys.

**_Adrien Ag_ **

His full name pops up as the first result in the suggestion bar. She stops and backspaces very suddenly, cheeks flushing, and a groan escaping her mouth.

What on earth is she thinking? Googling a coworker is weird! Beyond weird!

She needs to be smooth; suave. Kylee wouldn't talk, so who will?

Marinette squints in concentration.

And then, she hears it.

"Monsieur Adrien!"

Marinette shoots up from her chair in time to see a head of shiny golden hair slip out of the main doors. His tall, lean form stuns her for only a moment before she takes off after the retreating figure.

She pushes the door open and notices his pace quickening. "Adrien!" she calls, frowning when he begins pushing the 'up' button an obnoxious amount of times. "Adrien?" she queries, not ten feet away from him.

He doesn't turn around when he finally speaks. "Ah, hi. Y-you're the new one on the design team, right?" His voice sounds strained, so it takes Marinette a moment to digest what he's said.

"Yeah!" she responds cheerfully, taking another step towards him. "All thanks to you."

Silence resonates in the space between them, Adrien still not turning to face her.

Finally, impatient, Marinette queries, "Do we know each other or something? I don't recall ever meeting you, but you getting me this job was very generous—"

"No!" Adrien blurts hurriedly. "I-I mean no! I, uh, don't think we know each other! I've just... heard a lot about you and thought that you had a great character and, well, I just knew you'd be a great addition."

Marinette smiles, albeit, confused. "Really? Phew! For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to make up my forgetting you with coffee or something."

Adrien jumps violently, and his nervous laughter fills the empty hallway. "Y-yeah! Uh—coffee! Coffee's cool!"

Marinette goes to take another step towards him when the elevator dings. It slides open, and Adrien basically throws himself inside of it, seemingly hiding behind the control panel.

One painfully green eye peeks out at her, and Adrien waves sporadically. "N-nice meeting you!"

The doors slide shut, and Marinette is left standing there, dumbfounded. "You too...," she mutters faintly, blinking a few times.

_...I'm going to Google the phobia for 'fear of people.'_

*** * ***

The following morning finds Marinette on campus at college, sitting through the most dull and boring lecture she has ever heard in her life. The struggle to not let her eyes flutter shut battles her will to take good notes for the essay she'll surely need to write on the topic at hand... What is the topic at hand?

The bluenette groans and allows her forehead to hit her laptop keyboard.

"Miss Dupain-Cheng."

Oh boy.

"Do you have any comments about Shakespearean literature that you would like to share with the class?"

Marinette slowly raises her head to see the whole room staring at her, the professor with his little scrunched face included.

"Only that Shakespeare has a knack for killing people off in short time periods," she mutters, avoiding eye contact with the professor whose name she has forgotten.

The students around her snicker, though Marinette isn't sure why because the comment wasn't even funny.

Monsieur What's-His-Name shoots her a warning look, and Marinette shrinks back into her seat. Oh, what she wouldn't do for a nice, long nap right about now.

She spends the rest of the period trying to zone back in on the lecture, but to no avail. Instead, her mind wanders to Adrien again. She has so many questions about his odd behavior, she's compiled an internal list. She has officially made it her goal to befriend him—be him famous or not.

Surely, there must be a reason for him vouching for her; she just needs to figure out what it is.

*** * ***

By the time Marinette is stumbling through the doors of the cafe, it's 12:05 PM. With fall break having just finished, she's going to need to talk to Manny about a change in her work schedule. Most of her classes are in the late morning, but a couple are earlier, which interferes with her current work hours.

"Thank God," Rosalina, the girl who usually has the shift after Marinette in the morning, exclaims, yanking her visor off and tossing it at the hooks lining the wall. She places her hands on her hips and raises an expectant eyebrow.

"What?" Marinette queries, though guilt touches her voice because she has a feeling that—

Rosalina ducks below the counter, and for a moment, Marinette wonders if she's hiding. It's only when Rosalina resurfaces with an unnecessarily large flower arrangement does Marinette's mouth fall into an 'o' shape.

Again, Rosalina cocks an eyebrow, her hand resting on her hip as she motions at the arrangement. "Order any flowers recently?"

Marinette blinks several times before managing, "That bouquet looks more expensive than my apartment."

Rosalina snorts. "This isn't even all of it." She disappears from sight once more and reemerges with two smaller but equally beautiful arrangements, setting them on the counter. Marinette opens her mouth to say something only for Rosalina to duck behind the counter  _again_.

By the time the counter is filled to the brim with vases of flowers, Rosalina is out of breath from squatting up and down and carrying the heavy arrangements.

"What is this?" Marinette breathes, her heart jumping into her throat. Surely, it's not all for her...

Rosalina's eyes run over the arrangements before she reaches into one and pulls a single rose out from a small one. A small, folded piece of paper is tied to the stem with a light pink ribbon, and Rosalina holds it out to her.

Marinette takes the rose and examines the card, which has her name written in beautiful cursive on it. She hesitantly opens the card to see a small message scrawled in neat handwriting.

**_The Trocadéro, 9:00 PM. - CN_ **

Marinette would snort if she could breathe.

She's already told him multiple times that she will most certainly not go on a date with a man who won't tell her his name! How many more times will he try before giving up and just saying his name? How hard can it possibly be?

While she respects privacy, she doesn't see how a name would change her mind about a smooth, charming, charismatic, funny, sweet, and abnormally handsome man. Her price is only his name, yet he seems so reluctant to share it.

But how long can she resist his wooing? As strong a woman as she is, he seems to know exactly how to get her heart to skip a beat. And while she's not the most material-orientated girl on the block, the flower gesture is strangely breathtaking and flattering.

Of all the girls in Paris, he's choosing to pursue  _her_.

Is it serious, though? Or is this just a fun and flirty game? He clearly has money, if the insane amount he must have spent on the barrage of flowers has any say in it.

There are only so many times she can say no to him, but at the same time, she doesn't want him to think she's 'easy,' because she most certainly is not.

But would it be so bad to see what he wants?

"Look, chica, I don't mean to pull you out of your daydreams about boytoy here, but my shift is over. I have to get home to my brothers and sisters. Good luck." And with an apologetic smile and a friendly pat to the shoulder, Rosalina walks past Marinette, hangs up her apron, and leaves in a flourish of long, wavy, dark hair.

Marinette looks from the door, then to the flowers, then to the entirety of the cafe staring at her and the arrangements, and whispers, "Ah, hell."

*** * ***

Marinette comes stumbling through the doors of the Agreste Fashion building with complete and utter exhaustion yanking at her every step. Alya had taken the morning shift, leaving Marinette stuck working with Aurore, who was complaining about literally everything in an irritatingly nasally voice the entire time.

To say Marinette's patience is shot is the understatement of her freaking  _existence_.

She must have a nasty scowl on her face, for when she approaches the desk to check in, Kylee shrinks in her seat, chocolate eyes wide as she stares at Marinette with a kicked-puppy expression.

Marinette exhales, her shoulders sagging. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng," she mutters, her eyes dancing away from Kylee.

"Are you okay?" she asks sweetly, concern touching her voice as she hands Marinette her ID card.

"Just tired," Marinette responds, yawning mid-sentence.

"Bad day?" Kylee inquires, eyes large with curiosity.

Marinette blushes as she puts the lanyard around her neck. "There were some ups and downs," is all she says.

Kylee's lips stretch into a smile that seems too knowing for someone who has been given so little detail, but Marinette doesn't even have the energy to ask. She instead waves her goodbyes and trudges towards the elevators.

_Maybe if I ask nicely, Lavine will let me go home early so I can take a nap before meeting Chat Noir._

The ride up feels miles long and so very slow, and Marinette's eyes struggle to stay open. When the doors open with a ding, she runs right smack-dab into somebody. She wavers on her feet, eyes still half closed.

"Sorry," she mumbles tiredly, patting the man's broad chest. It takes her a moment to register the arms holding her up, and when she does realize that he's keeping her on her feet, she gently steadies herself to stand without his support.

"Are you okay?" His voice is deep and rich, and the note of concern feels familiar, but Marinette can't even bring herself to fully open her eyes. The half night's rest she had gotten isn't helping her exhaustion from the day, and her knees shake with the effort of holding herself up.

"Fine, fine," she insists, waving him off before yawning widely. "I need to—" She tries to step around him, eyes still so very heavy with the plea of sleep.

She trips, and the strong arms are there to steady her again. "I think you should take a sick day, ma'am."

"No, no," she insists, eyes fluttering open momentarily and catching a flash of gold and green, "I'm fine. I need to work." But even as she says it, she begins to lean more heavily against him, uncaring of who he is at this point as her consciousness begins to fade.

She vaguely registers the elevator doors closing, and the man asking for her address. The sensible part of herself tells her not to say, but the sleep-muddled side of her mutters out her address just as she passes out completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yowza. Chat Noir or Adrien? Guess you loves will just have to see. ;)
> 
> Sorry for the cliffhanger, but I plan to continue when I finish the next chapter of Camp Miraculous. :D
> 
> Xoxo, J.


	6. His Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, loves! Got a lot of positive feedback on AO3, so I've been encouraged to update quicker! Next in line are two big commissions, though, so the wait for this might be extended unless I choose to work on it between commissions.
> 
> Enjoy. ;)

Slow. Her brain feels terribly slow. Everything is heavy and dark, but something in the back of her mind is prodding her into consciousness.

Marinette's eyes flutter open before closing again, resisting the sting of being exposed to the world in favor of readjusting her position on her couch.

_Couch?_

Now Marinette forces her eyes open, wondering how on earth she can possibly be on her couch when she's at work—

Marinette's gaze zeroes in on a tall, lean, muscular form standing in front of her kitchen stove. She swallows the urge to scream and instead examines him as he works around the flower vases littering the floor and counters; the delivery men must have finished moving them sometime during her time at Agreste Fashion.

Marinette specifically remembers walking through the Agreste Fashion doors and getting her key card from Kylee, but everything after that is a blur.

The man has distinct golden hair, and he is clad in a simple t-shirt that does wonderful things for his form. His muscles contract as he does whatever he's doing—what  _is_ he doing?

Why is he in her house?!

Marinette must have made a sound of some sort, for the man startles and instinctively turns around.

They stare at one another for a long moment, both seemingly too surprised to move.

"Chat?" Marinette whispers, eyes wide and disbelieving as none other than the infamous Chat Noir she's come to know stands there, frozen and surrounded by his own flower arrangements.

He seems to be shrinking away from her slowly, his eyes glancing in every direction but hers.

"Chat," Marinette says with more finality, getting to her feet and letting the blanket that was draped around her fall to the floor.

"My Lady," Chat nearly coughs, his tone jumping several octaves, "come here often?"

Marinette raises a disbelieving eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "You could say that."

He laughs nervously, his usual suave and flirty demeanor nowhere in sight as he inches towards her front door. "Will I be seeing you tonight?"

Marinette's eyes flick to the stove clock. 6:43 PM.

"If you take another step towards that door, you most certainly won't."

Chat Noir stops dead in his tracks, a wonder-struck smile splitting his lips. "You were going to come?"

Marinette opens her mouth to deny it, but something in her stops the words from coming. Her heartbeat has picked up significantly, and she suddenly finds it a little harder to breathe as he slowly begins walking towards her, the grin still intact.

It's not his usual cocky grin, either. It's a really genuinely happy one, and oh, cardiac arrest is in Marinette's near future.

He's now looming over her, his grin having morphed into a softer look bearing an emotion that has Marinette wobbling in place. She is unmoving as he lifts a hand and gently cups her cheek, his thumb running over cheekbone. Her breath stutters as his thumb moves down and runs along her lower lip. Her heart jumps unexpectedly, and she instinctively glances from his eyes to his lips.

He leans closer and closer, and she feels herself being drawn to him like a moth to flame. Her hands make contact with his chest—

High-pitched whistling pierces the air, and Marinette jumps away from Chat, heart lurching for an entirely different reason. Chat flushes a lovely red and turns to the stove to remove the kettle. 

"Sorry about that," he murmurs sheepishly. "I was making tea for you."

Marinette almost 'aww's out loud, her fingers splaying across her chest. "Chat—thank you. I—" A thought suddenly occurs to her, and her face screws up. "Why am I not at work?"

Chat stops what he's doing and licks his lips slowly as he turns on his heel to meet her burning gaze. "Well," he starts, a nervous laugh bubbling from his mouth, "funny story."

Marinette crosses her arms and taps her foot impatiently, her eyebrow climbing higher and higher with every passing second. "I'm waiting."

Chat turns away from her to continue making tea, but seems to think better of it and turns back around to face her again. "You, uh... you should get more sleep."

A scoff permeates the air between them. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Marinette," Chat says, his expression morphing into a mixture of serious and incredulous, "you passed out in my arms."

Marinette frowns. "I— _what?"_

Chat takes out a couple of mugs and pours the hot water from the kettle into them before setting small tea bags in each. He picks up one of the mugs and hands it to her, and Marinette takes it numbly.

"Hey," Chat says softly, his eyes earnest as they make contact with hers, "it's okay. You were so tired, it's like you couldn't think straight. You should really be more careful, or next time, it might not be my arms you fall into." His hand hesitantly comes up to rest on the crest of her jaw, his thumb lightly dusting over her cheekbone.

Marinette can feel the heat rising to her cheeks, but she leans into his hand anyway, relishing the feel of his skin on hers.

"Chat," Marinette says, her hand resting just under his chest, "what were you doing at Agreste Fashion?" She looks up at him as she traces small patterns on the cotton of his t-shirt with her fingers.

He shudders under her touch. "I—I work there."

Marinette stops her ministrations, her eyes set on the dip of his collarbone. "You do?" she asks breathlessly.

His Adam Apple bobs when he swallows. "Y-yeah. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I just—"

A loud laugh from the hallway just outside of the door cuts him off. Another voice says something in response, amusement clear in their tone. The lock on the front door jiggles.

Marinette's eyes widen.

"Hide!" she hisses, taking Chat's mug of tea and placing it on the counter.

Chat's expression gives off a "what the hell" vibe, so Marinette takes matters into her own hands and shoves him towards the bathroom. "Go, go, go!"

After a moment of hesitation, Chat complies and ducks into the bathroom just as the front door swings open. Alya steps in, followed by a good-looking man Marinette recognizes to be her boyfriend, Nino.

Marinette goes to lean against the wall and misses just as Alya spots her stumbling and nearly falling flat on her face.

When Marinette regains her balance, she stands rim-rod straight and smiles in what she hopes is at least a semi-natural way. "Welcome home."

Alya's perplexed expression tells Marinette that she knows something is up, but Nino speaks before she can open her mouth and make a comment. "Hey, 'Nette! I feel like I haven't seen you in forever." He opens his arms for a hug, and Marinette beams before striding over and taking his offered hug.

Nino and Marinette have known each other for what feels like forever, as they were in the same class for 10 years in a row. After graduation, Nino's DJ career launched, and he recorded locally before going to America to get better exposure.

Marinette knows he's been back in town for a couple of days now and hasn't seen him since last summer. With this year's summer still months away, Marinette is surprised to see him.

He releases his bear-like grip on her, the enthusiastic grin still intact. "Looking good!"

"You too!" Marinette replies. "I wasn't expecting to see you until June!"

Nino shrugs, his hand snaking around Alya's waist. "Was feeling homesick... and Alya told me about your mystery man." He shrugs coyly. "Had to see it for myself."

Marinette's palm meets her forehead, her cheeks darkening as said "mystery man" can probably hear everything they're saying from the bathroom.

"Yeah," Nino continues, a smirk curving his lips at Marinette's reaction, "do you really not kno—"

Alya elbows him in the stomach, and the rest of Nino's sentence comes out in a rush of air as he splutters.

Marinette's eyebrows rise in question. "Know what?"

Alya pats Nino on the back and shrugs. "Who knows? He probably meant that it's weird that you don't know his real name."

Marinette eyes her best friend for a moment before going with it. "I mean... yeah, I think so, too. In fact," she raises her voice, "I told him I wouldn't go out with him until he told me his name, and he said he wouldn't tell me his name until the end of our first date. It's all pretty dumb considering it's just a name." She clears her throat before planting a smile on her face. "Anyway, made tea."

She can almost feel Chat's scoff as she hands what was his cup to Alya and pours a new one for Nino. They sit on the couch and exchange pleasantries before Alya announces their departure to the movies because it's date night. Marinette sees them out with a smile, and once the front door lock clicks, she releases a sigh of relief and slides down the door.

Slow footsteps alert her of Chat's presence, and she looks up to see him leaning against the hall's doorway, an amused smile pulling on his lips.

"Have I ever told you how subtle you are?"

"Shut it."

He snickers and strolls over to where she's planted on the floor. He offers her his hand, and she considers it for a moment before taking it and letting him pull her to her feet.

They stare at one another for a short while, Marinette simply letting her thoughts run rampant as she memorizes the lines and contours of his face.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

His voice startles her out of her reverie, and she blinks a couple of times. "Right now?"

Chat gives a one-shouldered shrug, his perfectly mussed hair bouncing lightly. "I don't see why not."

Marinette pretends to ponder. "I guess it wouldn't hurt because walks can't be considered dates..."

"What do you have against going on a date with me?" Chat asks incredulously, feigning an affronted expression.

Marinette reaches up and taps his nose. "It's what I  _don't_ have that prevents me from saying yes to you."

"How long are we going to go in this circle?"

The question hangs heavily in the air between them.

Marinette takes a deep breath and smooths her blouse. "Until you tell me your name."

Chat's expression morphs into something akin to sadness mixed with slight desperation. "I'm only not telling you because I don't want you to see me differently. I don't want to drive you away."

"Who  _are_ you, Chat? Are you an international thief? A criminal? An undercover FBI agent? A serial killer?" Marinette's anger rears its ugly head as her voice steadily rises. "Why can't you just tell me your name?" she asks, her tone softer but still harsh.

Chat simply stares at her, lips in a firm line as he seems to contemplate what to say.

Finally, he runs a hand through his disheveled hair of gold and asks, "What can I do to get more time with you without telling you my name?"

Marinette purses her lips impatiently, raising her eyebrows. "Really? You'll do anything but give me your name." She laughs, though the sound holds no amusement.

"Marinette," he pleads his hands moving to grasp hers before he seems to think better of it, "please. I don't want you to be driven away by who I am."

"Your name doesn't define you, Chat!" Marinette interrupts loudly, her tone bordering on a yell.

"Mine does!" he counters at similar volume. "My name defines who I am! It—I want you to see  _me_ , not what I can do for you!"

Marinette shuts her mouth, surprise blossoming in her chest.

 _I want you to see_ me _, not what I can do for you_ _!_

Something inside of her clicks as she stares into his pained eyes. Before she can stop herself, she's closing the distance between them, grabbing the collar of his shirt, and yanking him down to meet her lips.

It takes him a moment before he responds, but once he does, a surprised noise hums from her mouth to his as he kisses her with everything he's got.

Her feet leave the floor as he hitches her up to his abdominals, and she quickly wraps her legs around him. She deepens the kiss, and a sound of deep contentment rumbles between them.

"Marinette," he murmurs between a kiss, "what—"

Marinette unhooks her legs from around him and puts space between them, almost laughing when Chat keeps pressing forward into the air in search of her lips before his eyes flutter open.

"I don't know who you are," she says, "but I do. I know a lot, and a name is only what I call you by, not something that defines you. You are silly, flirty, sweet, too handsome for your own good, thoughtful, dorky, quirky, romantic, and interested in me." She laughs breathlessly. "I think I understand why you won't tell me. You don't want your name to change how I look at you, which means you've probably had a pretty restricted life with people who all treat you a certain way. You want normality." She presses her lips to his for a moment before pulling away. "And I can respect that for the time being."

Chat looks shellshocked, to say the least. His cheeks gradually shift to a deep scarlet that touches his ears.

"I think I'm in love with you," he blurts, the redness reaching his roots. He slaps a hand over his mouth and stumbles back a couple of steps, looking mortified beyond all belief.

Marinette's heart beats unevenly, and she feels her own cheeks warm a bit. A giggle bubbles from her mouth, and she approaches him with a barely contained smile.

"How about that walk?" she asks, reaching for his hand and winding her fingers through his.

All Chat can seem to do is nod and stare at their intertwined hands as Marinette leads him out of her apartment and down the stairs of her building.

Night has almost fallen outside, the sky caught somewhere between a sunset and the phase after as pinkish clouds dot the horizon. The streets are still lively with people, so Marinette pulls Chat to a park across the street for some semblance of privacy.

They walk for a while, no words being exchanged. The silence is comfortable, but Marinette feels the need to shatter it.

"I've never been in love before," she admits aloud, her gaze skyward as she watches the orange and pink melt into a deep blue. "I've had silly crushes, been on dates, kissed a few guys, but..." She shrugs, slightly embarrassed.

"You've never...?"

Marinette purses her lips and shakes her head, cheeks burning. "No. I've wanted to wait for the right person. Someone who really cares about me." She looks at the ground. "Silly, huh?"

"Not at all," Chat breathes. "Wish I would have waited."

Marinette steals a glance at him to find him staring at her. She quickly looks away, embarrassed by the shock still swirling in his eyes.

"I've only been in two relationships," Chat says softly, causing Marinette to look at him again. His expression is faraway, and as she continues staring, she finds herself beginning to understand his little habits. "While I've had plenty of lady friends, I've never truly been drawn to any on my own. Both girlfriends were ones my father picked out for me." He grimaces. "Wasn't interested in either." His gaze finds hers again, and the intensity blazing in his irises of green causes Marinette's breath to hitch. "But with you? It's almost like I couldn't help but fall."

Marinette fights a smile, her gaze returning to the pavement beneath her. "I really like you," she murmurs, half hoping he hears her and half hoping he doesn't.

"Marinette." He stops walking, and in turn, Marinette stops as well, curiosity coloring her expression as she turns to face him. He tugs her closer, and she complies happily. "Can I kiss you again?"

She answers his question by meeting his lips. This kiss is sweet and gentle, contrasting greatly with their kiss from earlier. His lips taste like mint, and he smells like cinnamon and vanilla.

"My name," he says, breaking their kiss. "My name is—"

Marinette presses her mouth to his, effectively cutting him off. He melts under her, and she pulls away with a small giggle.

"Don't tell me until you're ready," she states. "Your identity is your choice, and if you honestly believe that telling me your name will change things, then give me time to prove to you that it won't. Give me time to prove to you that I won't leave."

Chat's expression morphs from awe and admiration into something much stronger and dizzying. His eyes shine, and Marinette's not sure if it's a trick of the light, or if they're actually glazed over with the beginnings of tears.

Instead of finding out, she kisses him again and finds her stomach falling out from under as he kisses her back.

And for a moment, just a moment, a name flickers in her mind before she gets lost under Chat's touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rolls around in the fluff while cooing*
> 
> LOVED writing this and am excited to get to the next chapter!
> 
> THEY KISSED AHHHHH!!!!1!1!1
> 
> Xoxo, J.


End file.
